


On the Battlements

by CrimsonShield75



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Cullen Rutherford Fluff, Extended Scene, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Heterosexuality, Minor Character Death, Romance, Slight Canon Divergence, Sweet Cullen Rutherford, There Should Have Been More to the post-Adamant Cullen/Inquisitor Romance scene, questioning the Maker, slight PTSD, slight emotional trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 20:43:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12872628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonShield75/pseuds/CrimsonShield75
Summary: Because when I played DA:I I was very disappointed with the post-Adamant cut-scene between F. Inquisitor and Cullen. I felt like there needed to be more of a crash that the Inquisitor experienced, and Cullen needed to be there to pick up the pieces (because Cullen's the best). This is what I wished that scene would be, with the Inquisitor questioning everything post-Adamant, and Cullen is there to help her work through all her issues.





	On the Battlements

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, so be gentle! Also, feel free to comment if you want to hear more from my Inquisitor and her sweet Cullen (I have more ideas of trauma to put them through lol). I will also post smutty things, so look up my profile if that interests you.

            Anika Trevelyan was tired. No, that wasn’t right. She’d been tired before. This was different. This was _exhausted_. Not just physically, but emotionally. She was mentally drained after the recent events she had to deal with. She sighed inwardly as she continued her climb up to the battlements surrounding Skyhold.

            It was late, and most of the fortress’ residents were finishing up last minute business before turning in for the evening, or, more likely, heading to the Herald’s Rest for drink and companionship, in an attempt to stave off the feeling of impending doom that always seemed to permeate the place.

            Anika herself should have been returning to her rooms, readying herself for sleep, as she had a full day tomorrow. She had just come back from Adamant Fortress, and there was much to do regarding their new alliance with the Grey Wardens. Not to mention they had to start working on their next step with regards to Corypheus. Adamant and Halamshiral had been good, strong leads. They led the Inquisition right where they needed to go. But now…Anika let out another sigh. Now, the evidence had dried up, and she wasn’t sure they knew what to do next.       

            That, more than anything, was what was keeping her from sleep that evening.

            Downtime wasn’t good for any army, she knew that much. Downtime led to frayed tempers, increased anxiety, and more fights that had to be broken up. She knew she couldn’t keep her people idle for long; after the success of Adamant, her soldiers were itching to bring the fight to Corypheus. Mother Giselle told her what she already suspected: her soldiers were blooded now - not just soldiers, but veterans. And most of these veterans wanted revenge for the assault against the Grey Wardens, and now that they had experience, they were raring to go.

            Anika continued her slow walk along the battlements, surveying the people below. She paused to watch a little girl being chased by her older brother, their laughter drifting up toward her on the cold mountain wind. She smiled to herself; no matter how much the world threw at them, she was glad the children were still finding joy.

            Unwillingly, her thoughts drifted toward her own family back at Ostwick. Anika didn’t let herself think of them often; to do so would only add pressure to the already considerable weight on her shoulders. She knew all of Thedas was in danger. Worrying about her family more than others, who faced a more immediate threat, was anything but productive. But tonight, she decided to let go, just a bit, and allow herself the luxury of indulging in her past.

            She wondered how her parents were doing. She knew Josie contacted them after Haven, to let them know she was okay and asking for their help in rousing support from the Marcher nobles. The fact that they never wrote Anika back, directly, wasn’t surprising to her, but, if she were to be brutally truthful, it did hurt a bit. She wondered what the purpose was of not writing. Maybe her parents thought as she did, and didn’t want to distract the Herald of Andraste from her sacred duties?

            She snorted aloud at that. That was, now that she actually thought about it, most likely the case. Maybe her parents even thought they were unworthy to view her as their daughter because of the mark. Her family was vehemently devout, after all. She shook her head. That _would_ be her parents’ reaction.

            _“Great,”_ she thought. _“Just another way being the Inquisitor has separated me from my life.”_

            She hoped she’d have better luck with her siblings. Being the youngest of four was never easy (although, she’d admit, she did get a bit spoiled by Father), but she did have a close relationship with all her brothers and sisters. She thought about writing to Erik, her oldest brother, just to check in. Erik always doted on her. Ten years her senior, he was like a second father to her and cared for her differently than he did their other siblings.

            Anika wondered if Talya had finally secured a match with Fynn, or if Stefan had become a full-fledged Templar. She knew now she had to write Erik. Now that she’d allowed herself to think of her family, she wouldn’t rest before knowing if they were okay. Even though she was the Herald of Andraste, she should still be allowed personal connections and comforts. She should still be able to write home. Shouldn’t she?

            She groaned aloud and rested her head on her arms on the battlements. This shouldn’t have been so hard. But she was so tired, she could barely think anymore. The emotional toll of going into the Fade was overwhelming. And it was finally catching up to her.

            She had spent the day checking in on each of her companions, helping them work through all they experienced at Adamant. Going into the Fade had an adverse affect on all of them…it was too much for some, and shook them all, each and every one, to their foundations, she knew.

            She needed to be there for them, to take in their concerns and their worries, their fears, and their needs, and give them each that individualized attention she was so known for. Each of her companions was incredibly different, a fact Anika was usually extremely thankful for. But in times like this, where each of her nine friends required handling in a specific way, each step a calculated move to ensure their mental states remained alert, ready and competent…she sighed. It was sometimes too much. Sometimes.

            Anika didn’t begrudge her friends’ neediness, but it was a lot for anybody to handle. To be strong when nobody else was. It was a burden that had befallen her time and again since the Conclave, and it was something her Chantry training had not prepared her for. She was meant to fight, to protect people physically, not emotionally. But she was expected to be the leader, to make the hard decisions that nobody else could. Why? Just because she had a strange mark on her hand? A mark that, thanks to her time in the Fade, she now knew was _not_ the Mark of Andraste? Why was so much pressure put on her? She couldn’t handle it. Her time in the Fade made that obvious, too.

            She shook her head again, knowing that, were she not so emotionally drained, these thoughts wouldn’t be flooding her mind. She needed to turn her brain off. She needed to not think anymore, even if it were just for a few minutes. Only then, Anika knew, would she possibly be able to be at rest enough for sleep to come.

            She also knew there was only one person who could take her away from this place, if only for a while. She smiled slightly as she started to make her way to Commander Cullen’s office. If she weren’t so tired, she would be running up the path on the battlements. It had been too long since she had seen her commander, and, once she made the decision to go to him, she was filled with a burning need for them to finally get some alone time together.

            She didn’t know why she was denying herself Cullen’s presence. He was the only one of her companions she had yet to visit. A small part of her brain told her it was a way to subconsciously punish herself for her actions in the Fade, but that couldn’t be right. Could it? But, as she still hadn’t fully processed her own experiences, it could very well be the case. Her mind turned itself to the one thing she had been preventing herself from thinking of ever since Adamant: the loss of Stroud. She hadn’t known the man very well, but Varric probably put it best: the man was an unsung hero. He was so solid, so sure of himself until the very end. She shook her head, willing the tears that had formed in her eyes to go away.

            She had reached Cullen’s office and was about to knock on the door when she heard voices on the other side. She smiled to herself. If there was one thing she could be certain of, it was Cullen, always working diligently to ensure the safety and readiness of the Inquisition. Not wanting to interrupt, Anika quietly opened the door and slipped inside. She stood against the wall, taking this rare moment to observe the Commander in action. She hardly ever got to see him work, truly. Most of the time when they were together in a professional setting, all eyes were on her. If she spent her time looking at the Commander…well, that wouldn’t send the right message.

            Cullen was also usually more observant than this. She had been in the room for a good five minutes without him noticing. Not that Anika was complaining. To be able to openly gaze at him, to take in those details that she normally couldn’t see from up close, was a treat she wasn’t eager to finish. Finally, Cullen looked up in the middle of giving a command to one of his scouts and faltered when he saw her staring at him. She gave him a small smile, one that she hoped conveyed a “hello, finish your work quickly please,” but without being too demanding. He finished up his orders and dismissed his subordinates.

            Anika blended into the shadows, her training as a rogue coming in handy at the moment, while the scouts and lieutenants filed out of the room. It wasn’t as if she was hiding the fact she was coming to see Cullen, or that he dismissed them all so quickly due to her presence, she just didn’t want to speak to anybody else at the moment. Sometimes being Inquisitor was tedious. She felt her patience for idle small talk and reverence slipping, and knew anyone she spoke to at the moment wouldn’t be getting her at her best. So it was better to just slip into the darkness instead of inviting a potential political misstep.

            Cullen closed the door behind the last of his lieutenants, who had a last-minute report for the Commander to go over. He turned the lock, keeping his hands pressed against the door. He rested his forehead between them, and let out a sigh.

            “It never ends, does it,” he murmured, almost to himself, although Anika didn’t think he had forgotten she was in the room. “There is always something more to do.” He stood quietly for a moment, not moving from his position.

            “Long day?” Anika asked, still not moving from the shadows. She needed Cullen; but if he was too tired, she would leave him in peace.

            “Yes,” he sighed. “I-I mean, n-no,” he stuttered, grimacing to himself. He turned from his place at the door and pressed his back against it, now facing the room. He cleared his throat. “Yes, it has been a long day. But I’m sure you’ve had longer. Where are you?” he asked, smile playing at his lips. “You know I love it when you do this, but I do wish to _see_ you.”

            “Love it when I do what?” Anika whispered, close to him, but still in shadow.

            “Show off,” Cullen muttered. “I love it when you use your skills against me. Keeps me sharp,” he said, suddenly turning and grabbing Anika around the waist, pulling her close to him.

            “Not bad,” she said, pushing off his shoulder, trying to get away.

            “Mm-mm,” he said, squeezing her a bit tighter. “Not yet. It’s been too long since I got to hold you.”

            Anika melted at the sweet sentiment and sighed, wrapping her arms around his waist, hugging him back.

            Cullen placed a kiss on the top of her head, and then nuzzled her, breathing in her scent. “It really has been too long.”

            “I know,” Anika replied, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

            They stayed that way for a few minutes, just basking in each other’s presence, and taking in the feeling of being together, just the two of them.

            Cullen was the first to pull away. He held her at arm’s length, searching her body up and down, looking for signs of stress, or wear. Anika was sure he’d find plenty to be concerned about.

            “I’m sorry I wasn’t available to you on the trip back from Adamant,” Cullen said, searching her face. “With the Grey Wardens now at our disposal, there was a lot that had to be done. I would have liked to have traveled with you, spoken to you –”

            Anika shook her head. “No, it’s better you didn’t. There was a lot that had to be sorted through on my end as well. We weren’t a very lively bunch after everything that happened, and I needed to be there for my people. Having you there would have been a distraction.” She smiled up at him, ruefully, trying to convey what needed said, without using the words she didn’t have.

            “A distraction, eh?” Cullen smiled back, playfully. “And here I was thinking I was saving _myself_ from being distracted from _you_.” He stepped closer again and leaned in for a kiss. Anika tilted her head up, ready to be swept away in Cullen’s scent, the feeling of his body on hers, the passion she so desperately needed to release all the tension she was holding back. But when their lips met, that familiar sensation didn’t come to her. She didn’t feel the need to rip his clothes off like she usually did when she came back from a mission.

            Cullen pulled away after a brief moment. Anika wondered if he felt it, too.

            “Anika,” he said, softly. Well, that answered that question.

            “Cullen,” she replied, tears suddenly springing to her eyes.

            Wordlessly, he took her hand and led her outside onto the battlements. Instead of heading to their usual spot, however, he brought her to a different side, far away from the busy courtyard below. Usually when they escaped to the battlements, Cullen made sure they were never too far away, in case there was urgent business that needed their attention. Now, however, it seemed he did not care if they couldn’t be found.

            They reached their destination, and Cullen let go of her hand. He rested his back against the stone wall, facing her, and waited, not saying anything. Anika looked out toward the Frostback Mountains, admiring the view of nothingness that was spread before her.

            “Sometimes I forget just how beautiful the world is,” she said, softly.

            “Mm,” Cullen assented. But he didn’t say anything more.

            They stayed that way for a long time, Anika staring out at the vast wilderness, and Cullen staring at her or at the rest of Skyhold, neither of them speaking.

            Finally, Anika broke the silence. She couldn’t take it anymore. “Cullen…” she began, before trailing off.

            “Take your time, Inquisitor,” he said, just as softly. “I am here for when you need me, but until then, I am perfectly content enjoying the view.” He quirked his eyebrow at her when he said that, and she blushed, knowing he was talking about looking at her.

            “Cullen,” she admonished him slightly.

            “What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “I don’t get to see this nearly as much as I’d like.”

            Anika turned to face him now, a small smile playing on her lips. “Do you think you’re being subtle?”

            “No. I hope I made my intentions perfectly clear.” He met her eyes, and she could see the desire there. But it was also warring with something else: concern, maybe? Worry? She hated that she caused him stress.

            “You don’t need to worry about me,” she said, turning back toward the mountain view.

            “Of course I do,” he said, automatically. “We all worry about you. Me, Leli, Josie. Cass nearly makes herself sick every time you travel without her. I think even Blackwall worries about you, in his own way. You are important to us, Inquisitor.”

            “I know,” Anika said, subconsciously looking down at the mark on her left hand.

            “No,” Cullen said, so forcefully Anika looked up at him in shock. “ _You_ are important to us. Anika Trevelyan. Not the Inquisitor. Not the Herald of Andraste. You. No one could go through what you have and still maintain such goodness, such kindness. You are so special, Ani, so many people care about you. Do you not see it?”

            She didn’t see it, but that wasn’t what was concerning her at the moment. Not surprisingly, however, tears came to her eyes again. She turned away from Cullen quickly, before he could see them. She knew she wasn’t going to keep them from falling.

            “Anika…” Cullen said. “You don’t have to turn away from me. I am here for you. Talk to me, if you need to.”

            “I don’t want to be a burden,” Anika started.

            “You aren’t,” Cullen interjected. “You were there for me with the lyrium withdrawals. You are still there for me if I need you. Let someone else be there for you for a change. Let _me_ help _you_ for once.”

            Anika turned at the sound of the bitterness in his voice. It broke her heart to see him like this.

            “Cullen,” she said, taking the few steps needed to close the distance between them. She placed her hand on his cheek, cupping his face.

            “No,” he said, pulling away. “This isn’t about me. This is about you. I know it is in your nature to be giving and caring, but I think it’s about to kill you. And that worries me more than any demon you’ve faced, worries me more than the impending confrontation with Corypheus. You need to care about yourself, if only for a moment. Please.”

            Anika searched his face, and saw the earnestness in his expression. She knew that he needed this just as much as she did. He needed to be the giver once, the protector and the helper, active instead of passive in solving problems. She knew sitting in Skyhold while he sent soldiers out, while he sent _her_ out, to face their deaths each day, was grating on him. But she also knew he understood the requirements of command. He knew the hard decisions that needed to be made, and made his peace with them.

            She, on the other hand…she had sentenced a man to death, for the first time ever. She didn’t know how she had avoided having to give the order to have someone killed for so long as the Inquisitor, but she had. _“That’s what you have Cullen for, you coward,”_ she told herself bitterly. Cullen, the Commander, ordered soldiers to their deaths on her behalf, every day. How had she never seen it, made the connection that it was _her_ doing that caused them to never come home? How was she so weak, when Cullen was so strong?

            “How do you do it?” she asked, closing her eyes as the memory of Stroud’s sacrifice came back to her in full detail. She didn’t try to stop the few tears that escaped her too-full eyes and slid down her face.

            “Do what?”

            “Send soldiers to their deaths.” She opened her eyes and looked directly at Cullen, hoping to see something, anything, that would help her. “In Adamant, I ordered you to not take any risks, to protect as many men as possible, and you _chastised_ me –”

            “I am sorry about that.”

            “No, you have nothing to be sorry for! That’s the point, isn’t it?” she turned away from him, worried at the sudden passion that had escaped her. She took a deep breath before continuing. “You chastised me, and told me that you would do what needed to be done to see me succeed, and you did it without hesitation. I-I don’t think I could ever do what you do, Cullen.”

            “Well, you don’t have to. That’s why I’m the Commander and you’re the Inquisitor. I make the hard decisions when it comes to my soldiers, and you lead the Inquisition in whatever way will help out the most. Sometimes that means being a soldier. But other times, that means being a diplomat and slaying with your words, not your knives. I couldn’t do what you did in Halamshiral, Ani. That’s why we are all here. We all have our strengths and our weaknesses. If you were able to do everything, you wouldn’t need me around, would you?”

            “True,” Anika relented. She turned back to the Frostbacks and stayed quiet.

            After about 20 more minutes of silent staring, Cullen decided to be the first one to speak that time.

            “Inquisi – Anika. I don’t want to push you, but I _am_ here for you to talk to, if you need it. Whatever it is you wish to say, I will not judge you.”

            Anika considered his words for a few moments. “It’s stupid,” she finally muttered.

            “I doubt it.”

            “You’ll think me weak.”

            “Never.”

            “ _I_ think I’m weak.”

            “Well, let’s see if we can’t change that mentality.”

            Anika looked over to Cullen at that, ready to curse him for his snide remark, but stopped herself when she saw nothing but openness and earnestness on his face. Her ego deflated a bit at his expression, and she lowered her eyes.

            “Why do you think you’re weak, Anika?” Cullen asked, softly. “Not to keep putting you up on a pedestal, but you physically entered and left the Fade, _twice_. That feat hasn’t been accomplished in a thousand years, and even then not without terrible consequences. And yet, you did it. Why don’t you think that makes you strong?”

            “Because it’s nothing that I did,” Anika replied, somewhat heatedly. “I happened upon the Divine in the middle of Corypheus’ ritual, _by accident_. Then, _by accident_ , I picked up the orb that Corypheus just happened to drop in surprise, which gave me the mark upon my hand. It is this mark that lets me walk in and out of the Fade, to control Fade rifts, nothing more. It is this mark, which I got _by mistake_ , which gives me my power and the title of Herald of Andraste and Inquisitor. I did not meet Andraste. I am not Maker-blessed. I was saved, by the selfless act of a selfless woman, to do what? Maker only knows. Or does He?” she added, with a bitter laugh.

            “He does,” Cullen stated, softly.

            “Does He? How do you _know_? How can you still believe, after everything we’ve seen? After everything _you’ve_ seen? After the events of the Ferelden Circle,” Cullen visibly flinched at the reminder, and a part of Anika’s heart reached out to him and cursed her for bringing up such bad memories for him, “and then Kirkwall, and now the Breach, and the Inquisition, and Corypheus…how could the Maker be involved in this at all? It was foolish of us to think Andraste sent me out of the Fade with the Mark. _I_ was foolish to believe it. I should have known better. I did know better. I was just caught up in the whole ideal of it, and I let it get too far. How could _I_ be the Herald of Andraste? Why would Andraste pick _me_ , out of everybody in the world, to bear Her mark? I wasn’t worthy then and I certainly am not worthy now.”

            Cullen sighed heavily, and ran a gloved hand over his face. Anika had caused him stress, she knew, and she hated herself for it. “Cullen, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have –”

            “No, no, it’s okay. It’s a part of my past that I need to come to terms with. And I’m working on it.” He smiled at her. “As for how I can still believe in the Maker and Andraste after everything that’s happened, it’s almost _because_ of it that I still do. Maybe it’s my upbringing, or maybe I spent too much time as a Templar to ever get rid of my faith completely, but Andraste has not turned Her back on us. If She did, I believe Corypheus would have already won, and we wouldn’t have as good a chance as we do at defeating him. If the Maker has truly forsaken us, why did He send you to interrupt the ritual at the Conclave? Why was the orb knocked out of Corypheus’ hand, within your reach to pick it up? Why were Cassandra and Leliana not at the Conclave in the first place? We are where we are because of the Maker. That I truly believe. Did the Maker or Andraste physically lead you to your destiny? No. But –”

            “‘But if you truly believe the Maker has a hand in everything, then who is to say His hand did not guide you to this moment?’” Anika finished.

            Cullen cocked his head to the side, clearly surprised at the interruption.

            She smiled at his confusion. “It was what the Divine said in the Fade when I had fully recovered my memories. I knew then that it was the Most Holy, and not Andraste, who led me out of the Fade. And I asked her if that meant the Maker had forsaken me. Those words were her answer.”

            Cullen nodded. “It is one of the basic teachings of the Chantry to those who begin to doubt the existence of the Maker. They instilled this belief in all of us.”

            Now it was Anika’s turn to be confused. “You doubted the existence of the Maker?”

            “Of course. After the events at Kinloch Hold, I doubted everything in my life. Every choice I made, why _I_ had survived when everyone else had not. Why was I spared? For what purpose? I strayed from the teachings of the Templars for a while before I landed in Kirkwall and renewed my vigilance under Meredith. It is good to question things, Ani. It makes us stronger and wiser to do so.”

            Anika processed everything that had been said for a few minutes. But her mind wasn’t at rest, not yet. There were still some things she needed to work out.

            “Divine Justinia gave her life for me. Why? Why did she think _I_ deserved to be saved, and not her? She was Divine, she had so much more power than me, she could do so much to bring the world together…and I do what? Send people to their deaths?”

            “ _You_ brought people together. You did what Most Holy would have done, and then some. I don’t claim to speak for the Divine, but she was an old woman, and she knew her time in Thedas was limited. You had – have – the potential to do a lot of good in this world. You stopped the mage/Templar war. You brought together people of different races and backgrounds, nobles and commoners, dwarves, elves, hell, even the Qunari were interested, until you let your humanity win out in the end –”

            “See? That’s what I’m talking about! A better person would have let the Chargers die for the sake of the Qunari alliance! What are a few mercenaries compared to an entire _country_ of fierce warriors, proven in centuries of battle! That was a stupid decision to make. I made Iron Bull Tal-Vashoth. I ruined his life.”

            “No, you gave him his life. Being Tal-Vashoth is not a good thing, to be sure. But do you think Bull would have been the same if his Chargers died? If _Krem_ died? Iron Bull gave his eye to save that man’s life. You did the right thing, Ani. Who knows what an alliance with the Qunari would bring? But Bull is a sure thing. You know his skills and you know his Chargers. Not to say I haven’t ever questioned any decisions you’ve made, but saving the Chargers isn’t one of them. Besides, don’t tell Bull I said this, but he hasn’t been a Qunari in a long time. He’s sleeping with a Tevinter for Maker’s sake. I know the declaration was painful for him, but he’ll get over it. Especially since he has you, and Dorian, and Krem, and all the other Chargers, to help him.”

            “I suppose you’re right…” Anika said.

            “Have you spoken to Bull about this?”

            “Of course.”

            “And?”

            “And…it’s exactly as you say. He is not happy with being Tal-Vashoth. But he also said there was no where else he’d rather be.”

            “See? Just listen to your people. It’s quite endearing that you care so much, but you are important to your friends; they would let you know if you’ve done something wrong.”

            Anika gave Cullen a brief smile, then returned to her vigil of looking out at the mountains.

            “Was that all that was bothering you?” he asked, coming up next to her to look out the same vista.

            After a few minutes, she responded. “No.”

            Cullen placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. “What did you see in the Fade that has you so shaken?”

            “Nothing,” she said, automatically. She let out a small sigh. “Everything. You read the report.”

            “I did.”

            “And?”

            “And what?”

            “What did I do wrong? What would you have done differently?”

            Cullen turned to look at her full in the face. “I don’t think you did anything wrong. Do you?”

            “I sent a man to his death,” she said, quietly, not able to look Cullen in the face.

            “Ah,” he said. Cullen removed his hand from her shoulder and resumed looking out at the mountains in silence, not saying anything else.

            Anika almost started crying when he took his hand from her. His touch was beyond comforting, more than she had realized until that very moment.

            “You never answered my question,” she said, quietly, still not looking at him.

            “What question was that?” She knew he knew, but he wanted her to ask it again.

            “How do you send soldiers, people, to their death? How do you make a command, and demand it to be followed, knowing that it will cause many to draw breath for the last time?”

            Cullen was quiet for a long while after the question was asked. Anika knew it was because he wanted to give her a real answer, not the one he had prepared for when the subject was inevitably broached at some diplomatic function or other. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, which he only did when he was exceedingly nervous or stressed. Anika wanted to rub out the tension in his shoulders, his neck, for him, but resisted the urge. This was too important to her to warrant any distractions.

            “It’s hard,” he finally said. Anika was silent, waiting for the Commander to go on. “The first time I ordered a man to death was in Kirkwall. I was too junior of a Templar to have had any experience with it in Ferelden. Kirkwall was…well, it was a mess, to put it lightly. The Qunari had taken up residence in the docks, for what, we didn’t know at the time. Turns out one of Hawke’s friends had a tome the Arishok needed before he could go home. And then there were slights against him and the Qun, which resulted in the Qunari waging open war against the Viscount. It’s a long story,” Cullen added, when he finally looked over and saw Anika’s surprised expression. “One I will tell you one day, I promise. Or you could just ask Varric about it. It didn’t play out _quite_ as romantically as it is described in his book, but he wasn’t very off about it, either.

            When the Arishok started openly fighting against us, he didn’t care who got in the way. The entirety of Kirkwall was an affront to the Qun, or so he believed, therefore it didn’t matter who his men slaughtered: civilians, guardsmen, or nobility. Anyone who was in the Qunari’s path was ripe for being cut down. The city guard was overwhelmed. Meredith ordered the Templars to protect the Circle, yes, but also to assist in the streets wherever needed. Those who guarded the Circle were a lot more secure than those who were sent into the streets. I was Meredith’s second-in-command. It was my job to give out assignments. I sent those men out into the city, knowing most of them wouldn’t be coming back. It was something I dreaded doing. I will never forget the names of those who weren’t able to return to the Circle that night.”

            Cullen stopped talking for a bit, seemingly lost in the memories of a battle fought long ago. Anika remained still, letting the new information about his past absorb into her own memories.

            “It’s not like taking your first life,” he continued after a few minutes. “When you make your first kill, there are normally reasons for it. For me, it was a Harrowing gone wrong. The mage was going to be an abomination; there were many other lives at risk. Killing one to save many is an easy answer. I assume you have a similar story.”

            Anika nodded her head. “Mages had broken into the Chantry. They were presumably on the run from Templars, and needed some money to cross into Rivain. They were stealing some of the silver off the altar. I didn’t want to kill them, but one of them resorted to blood magic, and I had to do what needed to be done to protect the people.”

            It was Cullen’s turn to nod. “Killing is necessary sometimes. Sending someone to their death is different.”

            “Those soldiers are innocents,” Anika agreed. “When I go after someone, that person is usually coming after me, or my friends, or other innocents. And it is _I_ who make the sacrifice, who take the risk of injury or death. These soldiers –”

            “Knew what they were signing up for. I’m not saying it’s easy to send a person to their death. Maker knows I struggled with it that day in Kirkwall, and I continue to struggle with it every time I have to make a decision like that. But I remind myself that these people are soldiers. They know the risks that come with that occupation. They know that any moment of any day could be their last. And they go into battle, willingly. Why?” Cullen paused, looking to her, wanting her to answer.

            “Don’t say it’s because of me, I don’t think I could handle it.”

            “But it is because of you. Not just you, but the whole movement, the Inquisition in its entirety. These soldiers are here because they _want_ to be. We haven’t conscripted anybody into service, except maybe the Grey Wardens, but that’s a different story,” Cullen quirked a half smile. “Your soldiers, your entire Inquisition, are made up of volunteers, those who believe in our cause and want to fight, to protect you, and to protect Thedas. And, as much as you hate to hear it said about you, most of these people are here because of _your_ actions. They heard about your deeds, or saw you in person, and were inspired. So when they see an opportunity to serve you, to protect you and keep you as that inspiration, they are willing, without hesitation, to give up everything for you.”

            “But I don’t deserve that sacrifice. I’ve done nothing to warrant such devotion. And Stroud –” Anika’s resolve broke upon finally saying his name. The tears that she had been constantly holding back overflowed from her eyes, and a small sob escaped from her lips.

            “Anika…” Cullen spoke softly, and held open his arms for her. She launched herself at him, wrapping her hands in the fur of his mantle, and sobbing into his chest.

            “I’m sorry!” she cried, trying to stifle her tears.

            “Shh, don’t be sorry, it’s okay,” Cullen said, one hand smoothing down her hair, the other rubbing soothing circles along her back. “This is what I brought you here for. Don’t be sorry, you can let go.”

            His words just made her cry that much harder. Anika let go all of the tears she had been holding back for months, all the tension she had been keeping within her, made up by her fears and her stress, and her anxiety at not knowing what comes next. For too long she had been running, constantly moving, too quick to let anything catch up to her. But with Stroud…

            “It’s too much,” Anika managed to get out, in between sobs.

            “It’s not,” he said, still speaking in a soft voice.

            “It should have been me,” she whispered.

            Cullen’s hands stilled their soothing motions. He gently pushed back from her, enough so he could look down into her face. She was still sobbing, tears streaming down her cheeks. He took his hands and placed them on either side of her face, thumbs gently rubbing along her cheekbones, trying to wipe away the moisture. “Ani, do you really believe that?”

            “That it should have been me? Of course I do,” she answered, immediately.

            “Do you want to die?”

            “What? No, of course not!” she protested. “It’s just that…” she trailed off, and her eyes drifted downwards, too afraid to look Cullen in the face.

            He took one of his hands and placed it under her chin. Gently, he lifted her face, so she was forced to look up at him. “What is it?”

            “It’s just that,” she started again. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her breathing and stop her crying. “I haven’t done anything to deserve people’s devotion. I don’t know why Stroud would willingly sacrifice himself for me.”

            “Why did Clarel sacrifice herself to bring down the Archdemon? It is what Grey Wardens do. It’s in their motto. ‘In death, sacrifice.’ Stroud knew the Grey Wardens were partially responsible for Corypheus’ power. And he wanted to make it right. Letting him make that sacrifice was probably the best thing you could have done for him. He also knew the Inquisition’s importance, and that, without you, it would be powerless.”

            “It wouldn’t be –” Anika tried to interrupt.

            “Without you,” Cullen said again, still softly, but with a commanding air to his words, “the Inquisition would be powerless. You do so much more than you will ever realize, Anika. You are so special, and so unique. You have such a way with words. People flock to you because you have a natural inclination to help. You never falter. You never let anything bring you down. You remain consistently positive, even when facing the direst of odds. The Inquisition would fail without its fearless and courageous leader. It’s one of the many reasons why I…” he faltered at this point, which was surprising to her. He had been so sure of his words before now, “why I know that Stroud wouldn’t want you beating yourself up over his death. He was a capable man; he wouldn’t have gone after Nightmare if he didn’t want to.”

            Cullen placed a soft kiss on her cheek, kissing away the tears that flowed in earnest now from her eyes. Even though her sobs had quieted, her tears remained. He did the same on her other cheek. He was so gentle and caring, this strong commander…it almost made her start sobbing again. She didn’t deserve anybody’s sacrifice, and she knew she didn’t deserve the care and devotion Cullen was showing her. But…at the same time, she knew the words he spoke made sense. She knew the life of a Grey Warden was one of sacrifice, and that to go down in battle was the preferred fate of all Wardens. She just wished there was more time. More time to understand, to ensure she was making the right decision.

            She sighed. There was still so much to sort through, so much pain and worry, but she knew everything couldn’t be solved in one battlement session. She also knew no one would have been able to help her, the way Cullen did. Anika was so thankful to have him in her life. She smiled up at him, finally meeting his eyes. What she saw in them made her heart jump. She could have sworn…but no, she was probably imagining things.

            She shivered and huddled back in closer to Cullen’s warmth. “Cold?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her.

            “A bit,” she admitted. She didn’t want to tell him her lack of warmth had nothing to do with being outside in the cold mountain air.

            “Come,” he said, bracingly, taking her hand in his. “Let’s go back to my office. It wouldn’t do well for the Inquisitor to freeze to death, not after all we went through to get her to this point.”

            Anika gasped and looked over at Cullen, opening her mouth to say something. Then she noticed his quick wink, and decided to shove him playfully instead. Everything wasn’t okay yet, but, with Cullen’s help, she knew it would be soon. Cullen smiled at her, pulling her close to him. Then tried to tickle her. Anika protested, twisting out of his grasp. She ran ahead quickly to get away from him.

            When they reached Cullen’s office, they were both breathless with laughter and tumbled into the room together. Anika was just about to reach up and kiss him when a voice spoke from behind her.

            “Oh, good. Unhappiness was weighing heavily, and couldn’t be let to continue any further. But he was there, and lifted the large weight from her chest.”

            She spun around and saw Cole standing by Cullen’s desk.

            “Cole! Were you waiting here long?”

            “Not that I know of,” he responded. He looked past Anika to Cullen. She blushed at him finding them together. Even though their relationship was not a secret, she still didn’t like flaunting her happiness in front of her companions, especially Cole. “The words are still in his heart and in his head. They were almost in his mouth. Speak them. They are in hers, too.”

            Anika looked at Cullen questioningly for a moment, who refused to look at her, then turned back to Cole. But he was gone.

            She chuckled, amused at how Cole’s antics still shocked her. “What do you think he meant?” She directed the question at Cullen, turning toward him. He was looking at her with a strange expression on his face. “What is it? Is something the matter?”

            Cullen locked the door behind him. She knew he was trying to be subtle, but not much escaped her rogue-trained vision. “No, n-nothing’s the m-matter,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck again and heading toward his desk in the room.

 _“Back to stuttering again? Whatever could be the problem?”_ she thought. She followed him toward the center of the room. “Is it something I can help with?”

            “Inquisi – Anika,” he started. She smiled to herself. He always did have trouble calling her by her name and not her title in his office. “Have you, that is to say, would you, I-I mean, is it possible –” Cullen cut himself off, clearly frustrated at his lack of eloquence.

            She placed her hand on his arm, trying to calm him. “Whatever it is, I can help. I promise. Especially after all the help you just gave me.” She smiled, hoping to reassure him.

            “Maker take it all,” he muttered to himself, before turning toward her. “Do you ever think about the future?”

            “All the time,” she said. “I never know what tomorrow will bring. Isn’t that sort of the point of the Inquisition, to prepare for the future battle against Corypheus?”

            Cullen smiled a little at that. “No – I mean, yes. Yes it is. But I don’t mean the immediate future. I mean, the future _after_ the war. You have dealt significant blows to Corypheus recently. He no longer has his demon army, you’ve foiled his political plots…for the first time, I’m starting to think we could actually get out of this alive. And have a future. I haven’t thought about anything but war since Kirkwall…”

            Cullen trailed off, and it was her turn to smile a little. “It does seem like we have a better chance now than ever, doesn’t it.”

            “Yes,” he agreed. “But, it’s more than that. Now, for the first time since Ferelden, really, I _want_ a future. And that’s because of you. Wh-what I mean to say, is, I want to have a future, only if you’re in it. Andraste preserve me,” he muttered as his cheeks turned red with embarrassment. Anika’s smile grew bigger. “Would that be something that you, maybe, might possibly, one day would want, too?” Cullen’s expression was so hopeful, it made her heart burst.

            “Of course it is,” she answered, squeezing his arm.

            Cullen let out a noise that sounded half like a groan, half like a laugh, and swept her up in his arms. He held her so tightly; she thought she might run out of breath. He then kissed her, fiercely, on the lips, pouring all the passion he’d had to keep at bay for the past couple of weeks into it.

            She melted against him as that familiar tingly feeling spread throughout her body, warming her. _“Ahh,”_ she thought, as she smiled against his lips. _“There is that feeling I was missing earlier. Maker, he’s wonderful,”_ she thought, as Cullen started moving his body against hers.

            Finally, the kiss broke. Cullen leaned his forehead against hers with his eyes closed. When he finally opened them, Anika swore she saw tears in them.

            “Anika…Ani. My Ani. I care about you so much. More than I have ever cared about anybody before.”

            Cole’s words came back to her at that moment: _The words are still in his heart and in his head. They were almost in his mouth. Speak them. They are in hers, too._

            There were many times she had no idea to what Cole was referring. But this time she had a pretty good inkling she knew what he was talking about. She smiled as she took Cullen’s face between her hands, and lifted it so her eyes could meet his. “I love you.”

            His eyes brightened almost instantaneously, and his face lit up like a small boy’s on Saturnalia, like she had given him the best present in the whole world.

            “I love you, too.” Cullen wrapped her up in a huge hug and started kissing her intently. The pressure of the movement caused Anika to back into the desk. It shook, and something crashed to the floor, breaking upon impact. She gasped, apology already on her lips. But then she looked over at him, and there was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. He took his hands, and in one swipe, cleared off the rest of the desk, pushing it all onto the floor. Anika stifled a giggle.

            “I love this side of you,” she said, settling her body onto the desk properly.

            “I love everything about you,” he said, fitting his body over hers. He lowered his mouth, but before he resumed kissing her, he said, “and I love that I can say ‘I love you’ any time I want.”

            “Well,” Anika mused, “maybe not _any_ time…Leli and Josie might not be too fond of council meetings if we just started declaring our love every moment.” She let out a small laugh.

            “I’d like to see them try to stop me,” he said, covering her mouth with his once more, stifling her laughter. Anika gasped, overcome with the pleasure she was experiencing. She sighed in happiness, as she let Cullen take her where she wanted and needed to go. Maker, she loved this man, and she had no idea what she did to deserve someone like him. He gave her everything, exactly how she needed it, without her ever having to ask. She fought back tears as she came realize that she would do anything, and she meant anything, to keep Cullen safe. Resolved, she felt herself finally begin to relax as Cullen did what she had originally came here for, and brought her to a place where she could no longer think. Maker, she loved him.


End file.
